The Harem
by snarkmcsnark
Summary: A harem is a group of female sexual partners for one man, and what man has the looks and charm to have a string of women clamoring for his attention? Randy Orton. A series of one-shots, written from the perspective of Randy, featuring OCs from all across America, with a smattering of girls with accents. SMUT, obviously.
1. Gracie

**Summary: A harem is a group of female sexual partners for one man, and what man has the looks and charm to have a string of women clamoring for his attention? Randy Orton. A series of one-shots, written from the perspective of Randy, featuring OCs from all across America, with a smattering of girls with accents. SMUT, obviously.**

**Author's Note: Read, enjoy, and review. I'll have more where this came from ;)**

* * *

A harem is a sphere of women with the sole purpose of pleasing the one man to whom they have given themselves. In historical times, they were called concubines. In today's circles, these women were often termed whores. Prostitutes, hookers, harlots, or even escorts – I wouldn't call them that. My women deserve a little more respect than the ladies of the night who stalk down sketchy streets to exchange a blowjob for some blow.

They aren't well-oiled female bodies writhing around in some brothel either. Although, I have to admit I've experienced my fair share of orgies, which were vastly improved by my healthy contribution of baby oil. I travel a lot so a brothel is out of the question anyway.

See, my girls are all seemingly normal, respectable women of society. Not that being a prostitute is necessarily a disgraceful profession; my girls just have other things going for them. I have girls who are getting their degrees, girls who are running their own businesses, and maybe even one or two who have trust funds bigger than my bank account. Sometimes, I like to be the Julia Roberts to their Richard Gere; but don't tell anyone I said that.

I never pay them to have sex with me. Sure, I give them a few gifts here and there; but there are no contracts. If they don't wish to hang out or hook up anymore, that's cool – no hard feelings and best of luck on all your future endeavors. At the end of the day, I genuinely care for all my girls but I'm detached enough not to fall in love with them. They all know I have the attention span of a goldfish and the commitment issues of a lion, so they know what they were getting themselves into right from the start.

I've worked with the WWE for a little over a decade, and over the years I've met women across our great 50 states and a few overseas. My phone book has sweet, Southern girls to city minxes and everything in between. I try to keep tabs on all of them, make sure they're not struggling to pay their rent and bills, and see if they're lusting anything from Barney's. As a bachelor with my lifestyle, I know that a white picket fence, a wife, and Randy Jr. aren't in my foreseeable future; so the only thing that really makes me happy right now is seeing my girls with smiles on their faces.

Those smiles can come from a pair of Christian Louboutins delivered to their doorstep or a bouquet of flowers in their office cubicle, but if I'm going to be honest, the most gratifying smiles are the ones I get after a good fucking between the sheets. We've already established that a harem is a group of women with the sole purpose of pleasing one man, but this is the 21st century and I'd like to think of myself as an equal opportunist. Just as my girls come to me and ride me until daybreak, I make sure they're waking up the neighbors screaming my name.

* * *

_Atlanta, GA_

One more second in here and I will go into an epileptic seizure. Lasers and flashing lights overwhelmed my vision as the booming sounds of hip-hop vibrated through my eardrums. Swirling my glass in my hand, I closed my eyes and tried to tune out the noise. I regretted coming here. I know I promised the guys I'd hang out, be their wingman, and show them that Atlanta knew how to party, but I just wasn't feeling it tonight. Maybe I was getting too old for this. Maybe it was the nasty bump from the match earlier tonight. Either way, I had to tell the boys that I was heading out.

To the WWE universe these guys were known as The Shield – intimidating, scowling, up-and-coming, flak-jacket-wearing guys who were taking the show by storm. To me, they were young guys who were serious about their job, but just as serious about looking for a good time once the PG-tinted cameras were turned off. Although Dean, Seth, and Roman were only a couple of years younger, I started out in the WWE much earlier so I felt like I was taking them under my wing when we started to consider each other friends. Me, have friends? Even I'm stumped most days.

I took the guys to some parties, introduced them to promoters, and helped them on their game when it came to the ladies. Honestly, these guys had the natural goods not to need much of my advice. If anything, they just wanted my reassurance, which I was more than happy to provide. We travel a lot so we've grown to like the idea of one-night-stands. For a while, I was satisfied with that sort of sexual history, but, again, it might be my age showing through, I was growing tired of the chase and the risk of an unfamiliar face.

Tonight was no different. I scanned the dimly lit nightclub for my friends and first spotted Seth on the dance floor with a black girl firmly pressing her junk against his trunk. Roman, in all his size, wasn't hard to find. He was in the VIP booth surrounded by women who stroked his glorious locks as if he belonged in a shampoo commercial. That guy could give Troy Polamalu a run for his money. I am not even going to bother with Dean. The mouthpiece of their faction is notorious for disappearing with the woman in the club who's most likely to put out. In his golden curl roofed head Dean had a quick-fire approach to whittling down his prospects based on the thickness of her makeup and the shortness of her skirt. Dean has a type and he goes for it; it isn't my cup of tea, personally, but I respect the man's efficiency.

I pull out my phone and find Seth's number. If there were anyone sober enough to realize I've left, it would probably be him. I shoot Seth a quick text to tell him I'm heading out. And although the party has ended for me, the guys know my night is only just beginning.

The cab drops me off in front of the Victorian house converted into an apartment building. Once I've climbed up the four flights of stairs and reached the door for 4A, I knock. I wait about half a minute before the door flies open and a 120-pound body jumps on me. She plants a kiss on my lips and doesn't detach herself until I walk into her apartment and release her to her feet. That smile – god, that smile I've been waiting for all night – is bright and wide from ear to ear. Her blue eyes are sparkling with an innocence I'd be hard-pressed to find at the club. She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head against my chest. I inhale the scent of her hair – something pure and sweet, like a mix of lilies and cotton candy.

I pull away and hold the girl at arm's length to get a good look. Her mother named her Grace 21 years ago, but everyone has called her Gracie ever since pre-K. She grew up in a peach farm in a small town in Georgia. Her father was a farmer and her mother believed in two things: the lord and savior, Jesus Christ and child beauty pageants. Gracie went against her dear momma's wishes when she refused to enter Miss Teen Georgia and instead applied for a Communications undergrad at Georgia State.

She was just a freshman and barely legal when I first met her at the college bar. Armed with a fake ID, under the persuasion of her roommate, she sipped on a virgin daiquiri as she watched her friend flirt with boys. I knew she fell under my age demographic when I first spotted her, but I couldn't resist with her straw-colored hair, pink pouty lips, and doe eyes. She was the picture of purity. I hate to sound like Humbert Humbert, but man, Gracie was my Lolita.

Light of my fire, fire of my loins, indeed. The moment we locked eyes and her fair cheeks blushed into a bright pink, I was in lust. We got into hours of conversation where she breathlessly told me about her small town, Christian upbringing. While Sundays were spent at church, weekdays involved helping her dad harvest peaches and pleasing her mom by entering county fair pageants. Life had always been pleasing momma and poppa - as she liked to call them. They weren't too pleased though when their pride and joy left the dirt roads and backcountry to move to Atlanta.

Gracie opened up about her roommate, who, by then, had bailed on her to go fuck around with some random guy. She talked about how her roomie would bring a number of guys to their dorm room, giving her neither time nor space to study and sleep. Poor, little Gracie, all she wanted was some peace so she could pass her English Lit exam. All she wanted was a nice, religious environment so she wouldn't be tempted to touch herself when Henry, two doors down, was humping her roommate.

I knew I had to act fast if I wanted Gracie to be in my harem. She wasn't the type to agree to such an arrangement. The girl was a virgin, for god's sake. But I couldn't let her go. Not with that cheerful naiveté that was just so goddamn infectious. I headed for the restroom, but stopped along the way when I saw a bulletin board filled with flyers of apartments for rent. I saw the Victorian house, address steps away from campus, and pulled it down from the board. The rest, as they say, is history.

Well, not entirely. I never asked her to repay me in any form for paying for her rent for the remainder of college. But it was too late; pure, innocent Gracie had been scarred by her roommate's debauchery. She wanted to know what a cock lodged in her cunt felt like. She wanted to know what made a woman moan and throb hysterically. Gracie wanted me – lucky, lucky me – to show her. And I did. Several times before I had to run to Ikea and get her a new box spring.

Now, my little Georgia peach is expecting to graduate in a few months with a job lined up at a local news station. There's some degree of satisfaction knowing that my contributions have helped her achieve her goals. Tonight, she's dressed in an oversized Georgia State t-shirt that falls just below the curve of her ass, and a pair of thigh-high socks with navy and red stripes at the top. I follow Gracie to the couch as she tells me how school's going, and how momma and poppa are driving down for her graduation. She holds both my hands in hers, and with those big blue eyes in all their sincerity, asks me how I'm doing.

Southern hospitality and charm just saturates everything around her. I smile weakly as I try to evade the question. All my girls know that I see them because I care about them and their lives. The last thing I want is to turn this around on me, and give them reason to care deeply about me. If they unraveled me and got down to my core, beneath all the attraction and mystery, I become exposed. Once a girl falls madly in love with me, I have to cut ties. She'll want to be the only one, and truthfully, I can't promise that.

Gracie might be naïve, but she's a smart girl and she knows not to push me into talking about feelings. Her face quickly lights up as she brings the conversation back to her new developments. Don't get me wrong, I love listening to this girl's positive outlook and cheerful disposition, but it's been a long night. She notices me yawning and she sulks disappointedly. "Am I boring you?"

"Of course not, Gracie," I say, pulling her onto my lap, "I'm just really tired from my match tonight. I got dropped on my head by accident and had a minor concussion."

Her eyes color with worry before she kisses my forehead. I grinned at the comforting gesture. Gracie would make a great wife and mother one day – just not mine.

She cocks her head to the side and traces her finger along my jawline, "You're tired, but I'm sure you didn't just come here to fall asleep to my ramblings."

"Nuh-uh," I catch her finger as it traces the corner of my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the tip and bite lightly causing her to squeal in pain. She pouts innocently as she looks at the teeth mark on her index finger. Gracie surprises me when she sucks on the same finger to soothe the pain; her eyes never leaving mine.

She swings her legs over to straddle me, grinding her hips down to feel my hardening length beneath my jeans. This is when I realize Gracie isn't wearing any underwear – fuck, girl knows how to play. She puckers her lips and pulls her finger out in a pop. Not straying from her gaze, I wrap my lips around her finger and suck tenderly until the little foreplay forces her to flutter her eyelids close.

I pull her head back swiftly, exposing her neck. Trailing kisses down her throat, I feel her ground her hips down, begging to feel me. She pushes against my shoulders as leverage to drive down on my groin. My eyes roll back as I can sense the warmth of her center. My fingers move from her hips down to the border of her thigh-highs, tracing around her soft, pale skin. My fingertips land on her inner thigh and I feel Gracie shudder slightly. I bite on my bottom lip, containing myself from ravishing her on the spot.

She turns away and I see the blood creep up on her cheeks, showing me there's still that shyness and innocence about her from when we first met. I cup her cheek and lean forward, kissing her. It's slow and wholesome (for me, anyway), like the first time we kissed, when I wanted to make sure she eased comfortably into sex. We make out like teenagers on the couch. Our hands freely roam each other's sides but strictly above the waistline. Our kisses are peppered with soft flicks of the tongue and gentle tugs of the bottom lip.

I can feel Gracie heat up and she becomes more insatiable with the way her tongue explores my mouth and the way she scratches my back. She pulls my shirt over my head as we continue kissing. Leaning back, I allow Gracie to kiss down my chest and to my abs. She swirls her tongue just above my belt buckle and licks back up the length of my torso to plant a kiss on my lips. We make out again – this time with enough heat and passion to light a fire in an igloo.

Holding her head in my hands, my tongue traces the curves of her naturally pouty lips. She opens them slightly allowing me to explore the warm crevice. I swirl around her tongue, eliciting a moan that pulses through our kiss.

Gracie pulls away, her pure eyes now burning with a deprivation of morality. Her lip curls into a sly smile as she begins to sink down, tracing a path of kisses down to my abdomen. I look past her descending body to see her shirt fall to her waist. With her ass now exposed, I can't help but knead her soft yet firm flesh in my palm. She groans into my skin, the warmth of her breath blowing so close to my rock hard manhood.

With the snap of my belt buckle and the flick of a button, Gracie pulls out my cock. I have barely enough time to register the sensation of her soft hands on my rigid dick when she takes me into her mouth.

She sucks on my length, bobbing her head up and down just like I taught her almost four years ago. Always been a quick learner, Gracie takes my head and seals her mouth like a vacuum. I squirm underneath her touch, and I can feel her smile as she sucks me off. She pulls out with a discernible pop and she watches with wide eyes as my cock stands tall and free. Her hands stroke the heated velvet flesh like she wants to climb it and mount it. I hurriedly push the jeans down to my ankles and coax her to continue her carnal assault.

Gracie obliges, pushing her blonde locks to one side as she gives me a nice view of her blowing me. I dig my fingers into the couch as she swirls her tongue along my length. Bobbing her head up and down, she stops when my dick hits the back of her throat. She nearly gags, but she's a sport and she knows what she's just done to me so she does it again, and again, and – motherfucker. I pull her off my cock before I explode right into the warm, wet caverns of her mouth. Not that it would be so bad, but I had other warm, wet caverns I was planning to explore tonight.

She looks at me knowing completely damn well what she's just done. She's proud of herself. This little minx. Without warning, I lift her onto my lap and kiss her. As I ravage her with my lips, I lift the t-shirt over her head, leaving her in the pair of sexy thigh-high socks. I feel like little miss innocent may have planned this all out, because she knows I have a little schoolgirl fetish. What red-blooded male doesn't?

"Get on your knees," I command, slapping her pert ass. She kneels down on the couch as I get behind her. My hands squeeze her ass, as I trace my tongue around her ear. I nibble on her earlobe, gently tugging at the soft skin. "Do you want to get fucked, Gracie?"

"Yes," she whimpered, pushing her ass up against my erection. I position myself between her wet folds and allow the juices to coat and lubricate my dick. She moans as I thrust below her folds, hitting the back of her throbbing clitoris. I pull back and look at my dick, like a fucking glazed donut with the way it shined with her fluids.

I replace my dick with my fingers as it teased with her cunt. I took turns thrusting and scissoring with my fingers. Gracie's knees were buckling and she was begging for me to fuck her already. I wouldn't indulge her – not yet. She knew I was physically exhausted from my match tonight, but I had to deliver the message that I was never too tired for her.

With my free hand, I reached around her to play with her clit. The bundle of nerves was engorged and the more I rubbed, the more I could feel her walls close around my fingers. "Randy, please," she begged. I pulled her torso forward so now she was kneeling upright. I removed my hands from her searing cunt and she sighed from a mixture of relief and frustration. Her perky breasts heaved from breathlessness and I couldn't help but cup my hands around them and tweak her hard nipples. I bit into the corner of her ear as I swirled my fingertips around her peaks.

"Do you still want to get fucked, Gracie? Or are you tired yet."

"Jesus, Randy," she swore. And this girl never said the Lord's name in vain – except on rare occasions. "Just fuck me already."

Without needing further encouragement, I lined up at her entrance and thrust deep inside her. This wasn't like the first time where I inched slowly inside her cunt, making sure I wasn't hurting the delicate, virginal flower. No, no, this time, I knew my Gracie wasn't my Lolita anymore. I fucked her from behind, thrusting faster until I found our pace. I kept my hand on her breast, squeezing and kneading, as I pounded her. Her moans reverberated and the scent of sex filled the studio apartment.

It wasn't long before I had her yelling my name as she came. Her walls squeezing and releasing around my dick, nearly sending me over the edge; but I wasn't done with her. I turned her on her side, so I had her spooned on the couch. I continued to thrust into her as she was coming down from her orgasm. Gracie craned her neck to kiss me. No matter how much sinful acts she would learn from me, she would always be the type of woman to have these intimate moments with.

I kiss her and pummel her as my hand traces circles on her clitoris. I know I was sending her over the edge again because she moans wildly into our kiss. She pulls away to thrash against my body, calling for me not to stop. I thrust slowly and more deliberately, feeling her warmth close in around my dick. Resting my head on the back of her shoulder, I breathe in her soft, sugary scent and it triggers me into release. I plunge deep inside her, hitting that spot; Gracie screams as she comes once again. And I know this time I've worn her out because it's not my name she cries, but Jesus'.


	2. Dani

**The Harem**

**Summary: A harem is a group of female sexual partners for one man, and what man has the looks and charm to have a string of women clamoring for his attention? Randy Orton. A series of one-shots featuring OCs from all across the US, with a smattering of girls with accents. **

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm back with another update. Thanks for the reviews, follows, and faves for the first chapter. A guest reviewer suggested that I feature divas instead of OCs, and while I think having familiar faces/characters will give the reader a better picture, I'm honestly not really into majority of the divas right now. Besides, the idea of Randy's harem is that these are a group of girls from all across the US, and possibly other countries, who he takes care of in one way or another. It wouldn't really work out if he worked with them, now would it? Now, onto this chapter. It has a teeny bit of crossover goodness with Grey's Anatomy. GA fans will know what I'm talking about ;) Read, enjoy, and review!**

* * *

**Seattle, WA**

My eyes blink as it tries to adjust to the harsh, fluorescent lighting. There are these god-awful ceiling tiles and the grating, beeping sound of some machine. You can hear it fill with air, and release in the sound of a smoker's dying breath. I try to sit up from my reclined position but feel a sharp pain travel from the nape of my neck and just spread right across my skull. Bringing my hand up to the source of the pain, I feel a nasty bump and the memory of exposed steel springs back up.

The last thing I remember was being in a match against Cena. It was just a house show so we knew we could get away with a lot of stupid shit. We were bringing out steel chairs and slamming each other against exposed turnbuckles. We didn't have to worry about putting on a PG show. John and I could just pretend for one match that this was the early 2000s when we could spill blood on the ring or kick each other in the cranium without facing fines.

It was only made worse by the crowd who was chanting those asinine 'Yes!' chants for Daniel Bryan. Now, don't get me wrong; Bryan Danielson, Daniel Bryan, whatever you want to call him, is an extremely gifted wrestler and a terrific guy. I have no qualms with the fans preferring to see another superstar. Just don't chant that disrespectful shit during my matches.

Whatever, I'm way too secure with my career to give a shit about what the WWE universe thinks anyway.

Exposed steel in every corner combined with a distracting audience, and exponentially made worse by a lumbering, uncoordinated wrestler in John Cena spelled out a concussion. I got the stretcher, the ambulance, the whole nine yards.

I turn my head to the window and look out at the view. The sun is rising and in the distance I see the Space Needle. I must've been knocked out unconscious really bad if I had forgotten where I was. Seattle? One of my girls happens to live in Seattle, and she just so happens to be a nurse. What are the chances I've ended up in the hospital where she works?

As I lay in bed and try to tune out the beeping machines from the neighboring patients, a group of men and women in scrubs open the curtains and greet me with wide smiles and expectant eyes. The only one in a lab coat clicks his pen and scans over my chart. He quizzes, what I assume to be interns or residents, about my concussion, the tests performed, and my treatment.

A redhead in powder blue scrubs anxiously responds to the question but fails to even meet my eyes. A small smirk plays on my lips, and the cute ginger crosses her arms over her chest and mumbles some reassuring words to herself. She grows flushed by the second, and I can't help but torment her just a little. I continue staring at her even when the others are answering, and I can tell she's catching on. Her hands fidget and a sheen of sweat forms at her brow. As they retreat away to the patient the next bed over, I send her a wink and I swear to god, her knees buckle and she goes to grab onto the intern beside her.

As soon as they leave, I notice that the doctor left his pen on my tray. I reach over to pick it up and read the words running along its length, "Grey Sloan Memorial," I read to myself. The name doesn't sound familiar. I could've sworn my girl worked in some religious sounding hospital – something Grace, something Mercy. I shake my head and sink into my pillow.

* * *

Hours later I'm woken up by the sound of metal on metal, the television turned on from the next bed over, and the screeching sneakers in the hallway outside. I rub the sleep from my eyes and my pupils immediately constrict to keep me from going blind. I hear the shades go down and the brightness becomes more manageable. The tray is swung in front of my bed and I can see a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a roll of bread, a fruit cup, and an assortment of colorful painkillers. The nurse who brought the food in had her back turned, and was busy writing something down on my chart.

As soon as she turned, it was as if my prayers were answered and the heavens sent down this beautiful angel. The angel's name is Danielle. She glances up to lock with my eyes and I could see the subtle upturn of a smile on her plump lips. I watch diligently as she works over my chart. Tapping her pen on the tray, she signals for me to begin eating.

Like a good boy, I quickly consume the soup, stuff the bread into my mouth, and eat every piece of sliced fruit in the cup. In between my meal, Danielle disappears and checks on her other patients. By the time she gets back behind my section of the room, the drugs are gone and in my system. She walks to my bedside and her voice is a soft rasp and barely a whisper, "Hey, Randy."

I reach out for her hand as I smile up at her. Pulling Danielle's hand towards my lips, I press a long kiss on the delicate skin. I know she loves it, but I can see that anxiety building in her features. She knows she can't get caught. She pulls her hand from my grasp, and strokes my forehead almost like she's checking me for a fever.

"Dani," I begin, "I didn't know you worked at this hospital. I thought you worked at Mercy Grace… or whatever it's called."

"Seattle Grace Mercy West," she chuckles as she corrects me, "They changed the name of the hospital to Grey Sloan Memorial in memory of two doctors that died from a plane crash a couple of years ago."

I notice sadness replace her features and I just have this instinctual reaction to hold her. Danielle pulls a chair from the edge of the room and sits beside me. She continues to stroke my hair as she looks over my body. "I don't even work on this floor," she admitted, "but when I saw you were one of our patients, I had to pull some strings and promise a few favors so that I could be your nurse. My superior just thinks I'm a big fan."

"Well," I trailed off, "aren't you a big fan?"

Danielle blushed, looking away from my eyes. "You know I'm a fan of the things you can do to me."

_I remember that night in CenturyLink Field. I was standing at the turnbuckle at the end of my match when I locked into those big, brown eyes concealed by long, thick lashes. When the cameras turned off, I walked over to her section. Her screaming girl friends begged for me to sign their shirts and pose for pictures. She stood by feeling really embarrassed by her friends' brazen, yet completely harmless antics. Danielle had always been shy – sometimes too shy for her own good._

_While I was entertaining her friends, I couldn't help but glance at her direction. I encouraged her to join in for a picture. She walked right beside me and I placed a reassuring arm over her shoulder. I was covered in sweat, and if she reviled it she was great at not showing it. Her friend snapped the picture and she began to move away from me, but not before I whispered my hotel room number._

_Getting changed out of my ring gear that night, I didn't think the dark-haired girl in the crowd was actually going to take me up on my offer. She didn't seem like the ring-rat type – far from it. Mentally, I kicked myself for not taking the time out to pursue her. I continued to curse myself for appearing like a slimy asshole, who was only in it for sex (which, fair enough, is kind of true), when I knew I had the arsenal to be charming and, at least, appear like a gentleman about it. Tossing and turning all night about my missed opportunity, I nearly fell off the bed when the hotel concierge called my room at half past twelve to tell me a brunette named Danielle wanted to come up to my room._

Back in the hospital, I look up and can't help but grin. This shy, sweet nurse from Seattle was actually a really sensual and skilled lover. I take her hand in mine and glide it down beneath the blankets. A small smile curls in my lips as her soft, silky hands slide further down. She stands and shakes her head, knowing what we're doing is wrong. A thin sheet separates my bed from the next patient's. And in the halls less than ten feet away, doctors and nurses are dealing with life and death situations.

"Ooooh," I groan at the heavenly skin-to-skin contact. I don't care if you give me death, if it means I get to feel this alive under Dani's touch.

Danielle's fingers graze over my erection. She bites her lips as her fingers curl around the base, tightening their grip until I'm hard as a rock. She begins to pump me with an expertise that is unrivalled. I wonder if she learns these things in Anatomy. I'm tempted to ask her, but my eyes roll back when her thumb swirls the precum over the head. She milks me some more, earning satisfied, guttural rumbles from deep in my belly. She's really good at this. Possibly even better than me, and I've had my dick for over 30 years – that's a lot of old issues of Playboy and damaged gym socks.

I reach up to lift the hem of her pink scrubs. Snaking my hands underneath the material, I take hold of one of her breasts. I squeeze as she squeezes. I tweak her hardened nipples, straining against her bra. She tries her best to contain the expletives that want to spill out, clamping her mouth shut. The throaty moan escapes. Her hands cease pumping my cock as only our heavy breaths fill the room.

Someone has turned off the television. A throat clears from the behind the curtain. Apparently, Dani and I are now the preferred choice of entertainment.

Danielle's face is flushed and she's mortified. She pulls her hands out of the covers and wipes my precum on the side of her pants. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, leaning in to plant a kiss on my lips. I narrow my eyes. She can't just leave me like this. I need release! She mouths sorry a couple more times before she retreats from my bedside and speeds out of my room.

A throaty, granny voice from the other side of the curtain perks up, "I can take care of those blue balls for you, lover boy."

* * *

Now that I was discharged and changed out of my hospital gown, I walked out to a computer station at the center of the floor. A middle-aged woman, dressed in a lab coat and dark blue scrubs, was seated in front of the computer. "Hi," I greeted. She looked at me for a second before averting her eyes back on the screen. "What can I do for you?" she said in a tone laced with disinterest and sass.

"I'm looking for my nurse. Danielle Mendez?"

She raised her brows and eyed me carefully, "Nurse Mendez is a peds nurse. That means she takes care of children. Are you a child, _sir_?"

I raised my arms. I was caught red-handed. "You got me," I flashed a smile that barely broke through the doctor's toughened exterior, "She's a friend. I was just wondering where I might be able to find her."

"Pediatrics is on the third floor, west wing."

I followed her directions and found the floor where all the nurses wore pink scrubs and doctors rolled around the hallways in roller-skate sneakers. Colorful streamers and children's art lined the hallways. People needed rainbows and sparkles to distract themselves from the cruel reality of sick and dying children. Morbid, I know; but it's the truth. Generally, people on this floor were a lot more pleasant than the doom and gloom on my floor. I began to walk toward the nurse's station when I felt someone grab my arm and pull me into a dark room.

"What the hell are you doing here?" her soft rasp more out-of-breath than usual. "I swear, you're going to get me into so much trouble."

"Where are we?" I asked, looking around the small room furnished with two bunk beds and a standard Ikea end table.

"It's an on-call room," Danielle began to explain.

My ears perked up and my eyebrows rose, "On-call room… isn't that where doctors and nurses sneak off between surgeries to get a little action? Well, according to those dumb shows you made me watch last time…"

"They were not dumb, and you enjoyed it," she playfully smacked me in the arm. "No, but seriously, Randy, what are you doing here?"

"I just want us to finish what you started this morning," I smirked. "You took care of me, Nurse Dani. Now, it's my turn to take care of you."

Danielle shook her head and smiled. She couldn't believe I would come all the way up here, looking for her, after I was discharged, to get a happy ending to that morning's handjob. She reached behind me and locked the door. Trapping me between the door and her body, I couldn't argue with my exact coordinates in the planet at this very moment.

She slid her hands under my shirt, her skilled fingers trailing along the curves of my abdomen. Her husky voice is whispering something in my ear, but I can't understand her. I can only hear that scratchy, tickling in my ear and the nails digging into my skin. Danielle unbuttons my jeans and slips them down to my ankles. She eyes my straining cock, pushing through the black fabric of my Calvin Klein briefs.

Doe-eyed and daring. Her flushed face and big, innocent eyes are a stark contrast to the grip she has on my crotch. She strokes me through the fabric and I'm in that same heavenly place from this morning. The head peaks through the band and she twirls the tips of her fingers, spreading the precum. Her eyes lock on mine as she draws her finger to her lips, sucking on my flavor. Pulling her middle finger out in a pop, she basically tells me, 'fuck you.'

I shake my head and smirk. Oh, she will definitely fuck me. Picking her up, I turn around and push her against the door. She groans in pure hedonism. My hands grip her thick hips as she straddles me. Trailing kisses down her neck, I suck that sweet spot behind her ear and I can feel that rumble from behind her throat. Dani's legs squeeze around my waist, and I can sense the heat from her center.

Holding her tighter against me, I carry her over to the bottom bunk and lay her down. She brings her torso up to kiss me. It's the first time in months that we're making out like this. My hands travel up her sides as we explore each other's mouths. My palms squeeze her breasts as her tongue tangles with mine. Her throaty whimpers are just about as much as I can take before I peel the pants off her curvy hips.

Her legs kick them off faster than I can pull them with my bare hands. She takes the scrub top over her head and unclasps her bra in a few swift motions. I watch in amazement, as she's naked in less than ten seconds. Danielle sees my smirk and she blushes all over again; my heart melts. And now, my shirt's on the floor.

Leaning down, I capture her plump lips in a heated duel for control. I love the feeling of her naked breasts flushed against my torso. I can already feel the intensity from her cunt pressed up against the last remaining fabric adorning my raging hard-on. My hands move from the small of her back to the warmth between her thighs. She gasps, feeling that fleeting contact. I squeeze her indulgent breasts and she groans. Dani begs for me to fuck her.

"Not yet, baby," I hoarsely whisper in her ear, "let me take care of you."

My thumb strokes her clit as I push my index finger inside of her. I thrust and milk her senseless until that husky voice is crying my name. I kiss her to keep her moans quiet. I don't want to get her in trouble, but the noise she's making is making me strain even harder. Putting two fingers inside her, I stroke her furiously until she's thrashing beneath me. Her torso is stretching against the white sheets. Her tanned skin is a stark contrast. Pulling my lips from hers, I take a nipple in my mouth and with my tongue I mimic the same swirling motion of my thumb on her clitoris.

Her hips rise from the bed, wanting, begging for more. I look into those big, dark eyes and sneer at the effect I have on her. She wraps her arms around my neck as I continue my hand's assault on her heated flesh.

"Now," she tells me.

I smile, knowing exactly what she means with that breathy demand. "Now," I repeat.

As I pull my boxer briefs off. Dani feels herself, sighing deeply as she feels how dripping wet she already is just after a little foreplay. She strokes herself momentarily before capturing my dick and spreading her own juices all over me. I groan at the juxtaposition of the cold air and my girl's hot wetness sheathing my cock.

Danielle climbs on top of me and kisses me, before she trails down my torso. In one hasty movement, she takes my length in her mouth. Her head bobs up and down. I take her long hair in my hands, watching as she blows me. I'm in awe as she takes me as far as she can. I can feel my head hit the back of her throat. She squeezes the base of my cock in surprise. I don't think she knew she had it in her to go that far. But I think she likes it, because she does it again and again, each time her moans tremble around me. If she doesn't stop, I don't think I'll last much longer.

Pulling her up, I kiss her. Tasting myself in the kiss. Together, we're like saltwater taffy. She straddles me and I look into her eyes. She wants me now. I position myself in her entrance and carefully guide myself between her pussy lips. She rides me in a steady rhythm. I kiss her, holding onto her back as her long, lean body continues to fuck me.

I lie back down and push my hips. She's on top of me and she's bouncing on me as I fuck her. She reclines, stretching out that goddamn beautiful chest, crying my name as waves of her orgasm crashes through her body. I can't get enough of this girl.

Turning over, I lay her down on the bed as I stand on the edge. Her legs are up in the air and before she's back on earth from coming, my head's between her legs. Dani cries out as my tongue enters her center. I dart my tongue in and out, curling it upwards to hit that sweet spot. She tightens around me, her fingers digging into my scalp. "Randy!" she moans, coming again within mere minutes of the last one.

I don't know if she can feel me smiling against her cunt, but I am. I swirl my tongue over her engorged bundle of nerves. She's mumbling obscenities. I feel like I'm pushing her away from me with the force of my mouth on her saturated cunt, so I wrap my arms around her thighs and pull her taut against my face. Dani groans even harder. And I just work on her even more.

Groaning against her sweet sex, Dani turns around and now she's on all fours. I fish for the condom in my jeans and hastily slip it on. Without much warning, I take her from behind. I pound into her tight folds, holding onto the back of her neck with one hand and holding onto the bunk's ladder with the other. Reaching over her, I thrust into her as I stroke her throbbing clit. "

"I'm gonna make you come."

I wrap my fist around her dark locks and pull her up against me. I slap her curvy, bubble ass and her eyes dart back. For a second, I think she wants to kill me. Instead her pussy walls tighten around my dick, squeezing me in the wildest way imaginable. I crash on top of her, my body wriggling and twisting as I empty out every last drop.


End file.
